Missing
by WillSherJohnKhan
Summary: Sherlock's exile has been delayed for the moment due to the possible return of James Moriarty. Sherlock's main concern is Molly, who has gone missing.
1. Gone

When Mycroft showed him the message being broadcast nationwide, his first thought had been Molly.

He didn't believe for one moment that Moriarty had returned from the dead. He knew a corpse when he saw one. And Molly had confirmed that Moriarty was dead once she had completed his autopsy.

So he knew for a fact it wasn't the Consulting Criminal. But there was the possibility that he hadn't destroyed his whole network as he had thought.

And if that were the case, then that meant that Molly's life was in danger.

"Get me to Bart's immediately," he ordered as soon as he was in the car.

For once Mycroft offered no argument. He was well aware of what Molly had done for Sherlock over the years. And the precarious position that those decisions could now place her.

As soon as Sherlock burst through the doors of the morgue at St. Bart's Hospital he knew his worst fears had been realised.

Molly Hooper was missing.

Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson were already hard at work trying to establish the events after the broadcast.

The broken sample dishes on the floor proof that Molly had seen the message that had been played on a continuous loop.

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Did you miss me?"

When Sherlock pulled out his mobile, Lestrade waylaid him.

"I wouldn't bother," he said. "Her bag, mobile and coat are all still here."

Sherlock frowned. 'Why would she leave without taking anything with her?'

"Is there any sign that she was taken against her will?" he asked carefully.

"No," Lestrade responded. "CCTV footage shows her leaving in a hurry, but of her own accord. She didn't receive any messages as far as we can tell. She saw the broadcast, dropped the samples on the floor and then left the morgue."

Sherlock let out a small sigh of relief. As good news went it wasn't much, but it was something.

But the question remained. Where was Molly Hooper now?

Deciding there was nothing more he could do here, he left Lestrade and the others to get on with their investigations.

Once he had his brother's assurance that he had people already working on tracking down how the transmission had been sent, and by whom, Sherlock left.

On the street outside the hospital the Consulting Detective scanned the immediate area. "Where are you Molly Hooper?" he murmured.

He turned his collar up against the wind and made his way down the street, hailing the next cab that came along. It was time to get the Homeless Network into action. Time was of the essence.


	2. Fleeing

Molly Hooper made her way through the crowds of people walking down the street. She kept her head down, but she remained on alert. There was no telling who could be keeping a lookout for her.

But who would regard her as that important?

Sherlock had.

She was scared, she wasn't afraid to admit it. Not because she believed Moriarty had returned from the dead. She had performed his autopsy. James Moriarty was dead; she knew that for an absolute fact. So who was behind the message that had been transmitted? Who and why, that was what had her worried.

Given today's technology it was easy enough to manipulate someone's features and voice, especially if there was enough footage of them.

And Moriarty had not been one to shy away from publicity, even when he was pretending to be Richard Brook.

As Molly made her way through the streets of London she made sure that she continually changed direction, sometimes even backtracking. She did everything she could think of to throw off any potential pursuer.

John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson had been Moriarty's targets when he had had his final confrontation with Sherlock.

She had not even registered on his radar. He had completely misjudged her importance to the Consulting Detective. But since Sherlock's return, some of her involvement had inevitably come to light.

So she was now a possible target for anyone with a grudge against him.

And that would make for a very long list.

But given the decision to use Moriarty's features, Molly was certain that it had to do with the Consulting Criminal's network.

Sherlock had been confident that he had closed it down. Molly's teeth worried her bottom lip. But, still…

She had deliberately left her mobile etc. behind, in this way she hoped it would make it more difficult for her to be tracked. Though she was enough of a realist to acknowledge that if anyone was determined enough to find her they would.

But she was going to have to find somewhere safe. She couldn't aimlessly wander the streets indefinitely. She needed to find somewhere where she could stay until she could figure out what she needed to do next.

Molly knew that the logical thing to do would be to contact Lestrade, John or Mycroft. But she was doing her best in her own way to protect them.

As she changed direction yet again, her thoughts turned to Sherlock and the mission he had been sent on. The one from which he was not expected to return. She gave a silent prayer that he would remain safe wherever he was.

Molly wished with all her heart that he were here now to sort out this whole mess. And to rescue her if it came to that.

But that was just wishful thinking.

She was on her own.


	3. Searching

As Sherlock reached his destination, he pulled out his mobile and rang his brother.

"Any progress?" he inquired.

"Some," came the response. "Though they're not making it easy for us. However I have no doubt we'll find them sooner rather than later."

"Make sure that you do." Before Mycroft could reply Sherlock disconnected the call.

His phone beeped, indicating a number of text messages. His Homeless Network had been busy. There had been a number of sightings of the missing pathologist. Sherlock frowned as he read the messages. 'What are you doing Molly? Where are you going?'

As far as he could tell she was zigzagging her way through the city…

"Oh…! Clever, clever girl."

Molly's decision to leave her mobile and bag at Bart's told Sherlock that she was doing all she could to not be traced. It was her way of trying to protect those close to her. If they couldn't contact her or find her, then they were of no use to those that may be pursuing her.

They were the admirable qualities he had learnt to appreciate about her.

He put his mobile away and entered the building and went up the stairs to Molly's flat.

Sherlock knew he wouldn't find her here. Molly knew better than to lead danger home. She knew all too well a locked door wouldn't stop anyone who was determined enough to enter.

But he hoped that he might find something that would give him a clue as to where she may have fled.

And loath though he was to admit it, he wanted to make sure that her cat Toby was unharmed. But as he looked around he found a note Molly had placed on the calendar noting Toby's Vet appointment to get his teeth cleaned. So he was safely out of harms way.

If only he could be as certain for Toby's owner.

Realising there was no further information to be found here he headed out the door, pausing as his phone rang.

"Yes John."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" his friend asked. "I want to help."

"You'll help me better where you are," Sherlock replied. "Stay with Mary. Mycroft and Lestrade are working on who is behind the transmission, and my homeless network are assisting me with finding Molly."

John knew when not to push, so instead he let out a resigned sigh. "All right, fine. But keep me updated."

"Will do," Sherlock promised.

As Sherlock made his way down the stairs he thought through all the information that had been gathered about Molly's movements since she had left the hospital.

It was clear that Molly was not only trying to lose anyone attempting to follow her, she was also trying to find some place where she would feel safe.

His deduction was proved correct when he received another text from a member of the homeless network.

"That's my girl," he murmured with a smile.

Once back out on the street, Sherlock hailed a cab. "Taxi!"


	4. Hiding

With a sigh of relief Molly finally reached her destination.

She was exhausted.

All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere comfortable and fall asleep. And maybe when she woke up it would be to discover that it had all been a bad dream. Nothing more.

Except that she knew it wasn't. Her aching muscles were proof enough of that.

The residence she had come to was vacant. It was in complete darkness, no lights and the curtains had been pulled. Molly stood in the doorway, giving her eyes time to adjust.

After a minute or two, confident she could walk around without knocking anything over, she entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Though the place had only been vacant for a couple of weeks, dust had begun to gather on every available surface.

The same said layers of dust were now disturbed by the arrival of the unexpected visitor. Molly was forced to cover her nose and mouth with her hand to prevent her from breathing it in.

She made her way over to the chair by the fireplace and gingerly sat down.

No longer on the move, she went over what she had done that saw her ending up where she was.

'Had she done the right thing?'

'Was she over-reacting?'

'What if it was just a hoax, a prank to put everyone on edge?'

If that were the case then her actions would appear silly, overly dramatic.

But she was certain that there was more to the message than simple mischief making.

She just didn't know what.

A yawn escaped her lips reminding her how tired she was. She bent down and removed her shoes. She then curled up in the chair, snuggling into the welcoming leather and catching the briefest traces of his scent.

"Sherlock, where are you?" Molly whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I need you."

Everything around her offered her comfort and a sense of protection.

Letting out a sigh, Molly Hooper closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep.


	5. Found

Sherlock entered 221B Baker St and made his way quietly up the stairs to his flat. He opened the door, surveyed the area before moving over to the other side of the room to turn on a lamp.

He then sent texts updating Mycroft, John and Lestrade before walking over to the petite woman who was currently curled up fast asleep in his chair.

He crouched down and gently brushed his finger against her cheek.

When Molly opened her eyes she was a little confused as to where she was. Then she remembered. It took her another five seconds to recognise who it was that had woken her.

"Sherlock," she gasped, struggling to sit up. "What are…?"

Sherlock placed a finger against her lips and shook his head. His expression appeared stern, except for the warm glow that emanated from his aqua coloured eyes.

"You've led me and my homeless network on a merry dance all across London Molly Hooper. I have been searching high and low for you. And where do I find you hmmmm? Sleeping in my chair."

Molly could feel her cheeks going pink with embarrassment.

Sherlock chucked, brushing her cheek with his finger before continuing. "Why here?"

Molly looked away suddenly shy. "This is where you live," she finally replied. "And where you are, or have been is where I feel safe."

Sherlock felt humbled by her faith in him.

He stood, bent down and lifted her up with ease before settling them both comfortably in his chair.

"So my flat is your bolt hole," he mused aloud.

Molly turned her head to look him directly in the eye. "Well it seemed only fair," she replied. "After all my flat is one of yours."

"True."

"I'm sorry I caused you unnecessary worry," she said. "If I'd known that you were still in England, I probably wouldn't have acted as I did."

"You weren't to know," Sherlock told her. "The plane had just taken off when the transmission took place. And given who appeared in the message, it was decided that my services were more valuable to England."

"So does that mean that you're not going to be sent away again, or jailed?"

Sherlock didn't answer immediately. "I honestly don't know," he replied in the end. "I assume it will depend on what we find out about who is behind the message and what exactly it is that they are after."

Molly's hopeful expression faded slightly. She lowered her eyes, and her shoulders slumped.

Sherlock placed his finger under her chin and raised her head so that he could see her face. "Don't give up on me yet," he said with a small smile. "Whoever they are they are certainly not amateurs, if the problems they're causing Mycroft are anything to go by."

Molly let out a low groan.

Sherlock frowned, looking confused.

"There I was thinking I was being so clever," Molly explained. "Making sure I couldn't be traced, wandering all over London to try to shake off anyone who might be following me. And in the end it's probably going to be about so much more than just me, or even you. And there you were, the one that should have been busy trying to find these people, but instead you had to waste your time looking for me."

Sherlock stopped her with a shake of his head.

"You're safe Molly," he said softly, pulling her close, and resting his cheek against the top of her head. "That's all that matters to me."


End file.
